User blog comment:Llamao/The Underground/@comment-3474228-20120810170835

"Those who feel no fear in the face of death are the true cowards"

He knelt shamefully at the feet of one stronger than himself, feeling the wind blow through the fur on his scarred body. As he looked up, even the glaring light of the sun couldn't block out the smug smirk of the other one. You have lost. It was over. In a few moments, his head would be freed from his pathetic body.

But no, there were other plans. Torture. He felt a tickling sensation as his blood continued to drip rhythmically into the rain puddle beneath him, and suddenly he was roughly pulled up and hauled towards the castle which had only been his an hour ago.

But this was the choice he made, years ago, after he was shamed and exiled from the merchant town of Karaval'''é. '''His clan members looked on in silence as he was dragged through the mud, not daring to speak for fear of their own lives. But there would always be a twist, because this creature was not new to Azmar.

But his captor, Malchor Tareuvian, was.